


Surrogate

by Walutahanga



Category: Mighty Morphin Power Rangers, Power Rangers
Genre: Denial, Gen, Mother-Son Relationship, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-21
Updated: 2014-03-21
Packaged: 2018-01-16 11:57:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1346599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Walutahanga/pseuds/Walutahanga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rita's thoughts on Thrax, the son she lost ten thousand years ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Surrogate

Before all other things, Rita is a mother. 

This does not change, though she has not laid eyes on her son nor held him in her arms for over ten thousand years. Zedd had made it clear that Thrax was dead to them in purpose if not fact, but Rita cannot forget the colour of her son’s eyes. She cannot forget the low, precise pitch of his voice as he outlined strategy in the war-room, nor the way he’d bring her a flower every morning to remind her of the home she’d lost when Zedd stole her. So long as she remembers these things, she is a mother. 

Tommy does not bring her flowers. His eyes are brown, not the darkness between stars, and he stinks of human sweat. He is a barbarian; stupid, uneducated, and brutish. His devotion to her is a dog grovelling at its masters’ feet, not the tenderness of a son for his mother. 

And yet. 

If he turns his head just so, he could be Thrax. His laughter will catch her off-guard, for a wild moment bringing Thrax alive again. When he torments the rangers, his adolescent eagerness triggers a rush of warmth within her chest. 

This affection is wasted on the boy, really. He is Zedd’s son, but he is not hers, and rivals cannot be tolerated. He will have to die eventually, to secure Thrax’s succession. For Rita hasn’t given up on Thrax. Oh no. The rest of the universe might forget, even Thrax’s own father, but Rita is his mother. She will find a way to free him. If she must live another ten thousand years, and burn ten times as many worlds, she will find a way. 

It is Scorpina that brings her a flower one morning. It is a perfect white lily, of the type used in funerals in some areas of Earth. 

Rita cups it in her hands, careful not to bruise it with her nails. 

“For me?” She says, pleased. 

“No.” Ten thousand years have taught Scorpina an inscrutability to make rocks weep. She is Rita’s oldest friend and most loyal servant, and only she could say what she does next and not die for it. “For your son.” 

For a moment Rita does not understand. Then the significance of the flower and funerals occurs to her. 

“You dare speak of Thrax as dead?” She hisses. 

“He is dead. For us.” Scorpina’s voice shifts, becoming slightly less indifferent. “The boy worships you. Don’t kill him for another long gone.” 

Rita turns away from Scorpina’s unrelenting gaze. 

“Get out of my sight,” she says harshly. 

“As my Queen commands.” Scorpina bows and departs. 

Rita throws the flower away. But the words will haunt her when she looks upon Tommy’s face. 

Perhaps it’s that which makes her link the spell to such an obvious target as the sword. An unconscious attempt to get rid of the human? Or an attempt to protect him even from herself? Neither reason is entirely accurate. She is neither so selfish nor so selfless. 

Later, she will think it’s most likely an attempt to protect herself, to shield herself from the loss of another son by removing the choice from her hands. For if Tommy becomes her son, she would do anything to protect him. She would burn worlds and shatter suns and scorch oceans to keep him safe. 

She can do no less. She is a mother.


End file.
